


Deep 'V'

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Otabek Altin's cleavage, Otabek Altin's muscles, Pearl Necklace, Titty fuck, awkward teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky appreciates Otabek's cleavage. You can figure out the rest.





	Deep 'V'

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this is a repost of a pastebin fic originally posted to Twitter, August 2017.

———

Yuri swallowed as he stared down at the cursed image illuminating his cracked phone screen.

Under the spider web of fractures Yuri could see his tanned skin in stark contrast to the crisp white shirt, his figure set against a grey tone backdrop. Dark hair somehow even MORE perfectly coiffed than it normally was; undercut all clean shaved lines against the elegant tendons of his neck. But that wasn't what transfixed him.

Those dark eyes looked down in the frame toward the intended centrepiece of the spread, the well polished bronze medal from his World’s debut the season before. Cool, yeah, whatever. What caught Yuri’s attention more in that moment was the way the Kazakh's shirt was unbuttoned into a deep and tempting ‘V’. Smooth curves of his collarbones meeting swelling pectorals in a way that made Yuri's mouth water and his cock tingle, and-

"Yurio!"

The voice he had been trying (and quite successfully) tuning out whilst staring at the most recent Twitter post by @otabae_fanclub was now immediately close to the side of his face, silver bangs tickling the shell of his ear.

Yuri somehow managed to get it together enough to shove his phone back into his pocket a microsecond before the old man's surprisingly fast reflexes made a dash for the device.

Yuri turned on his heel against the outside boards of the rink, face contorted into a snarl that was offset by the flush in his cheeks.

"It's your turn for practice Yurio!"

Victor cocked his head to the side in a faux expression of delight, pulling his guilty hand back as if he hadn't just tried to pilfer the younger skater a moment ago.

Yuri simply snarled back, in lieu of words which were still lost to him thanks to a certain SOMEBODY in a certain SEXY MAGAZINE SHOOT.

_No._

_Not sexy._

_Definitely not sexy._

His mind corrected itself. Definitely not sexy. There was nothing weird or abnormal of being jealous of how swole his fellow competitor was. Smooth panes of muscle rising under velveteen-like golden skin. That's right. Jealous. Yeah.

"How's Otabek?"

Victor added as if sensing the minor haze that had begun to cloud Yuri's vision yet again.

Yuri shouldered past the old man roughly, growth spurt meaning at least his sharp elbow reached a little higher on Victor's ribs than on his midsection.

"Don't you have a pig to take care of?!"

Yuri snarled, wrestling off his hoodie and hanging it on the edge of the boards, blades screeching against the ice as he narrowly avoided the smiling, oblivious pig in question.

Ignoring the way the old man caught his Katsudon with a laugh and a kiss on the nose (disgusting), Yurio launched himself around the rink at a break-neck pace in some effort to burn off the warm ichor that had settled in the pit of him stomach. Bad enough Otabek was arriving for training camp tomorrow. Was it too late too just call sick or some bullshit for a full week? 

Yuri cursed under his breath, skates crossing over each other again and again as he carved figures deep into the ice.

Damn training camp!

_triple axel_

Damn sexy photo-shoots!

_quadruple loop_

Damn Otabek!

_quadruple salchow_

———

It took about three hours, half a box of tissues, a quarter tube of non-allergenic moisturiser, and two cold showers to get rid of the lingering heat that had culminated in his cock since that one Twitter notification.

He lay still naked on his bed, evidence of the past few hours of angry masturbating shoved into the overflowing trash can in the corner of his room, laptop screen still open to his spank material in question. Staring up at the ceiling he could hear the slight scratch and angry yowl of Potya on the other side of the door, but couldn’t bring himself to bother to stand, let alone cross the room to let the little asshole bask in his shame.

Stupid sexy Otabek. Or more accurately; stupid sexy Otabek’s muscles.

No, not sexy. Not sexy at all, that almost cleavage-like line that formed between Otabek’s thick pectorals. Dusky nipples and just a tiny hint of hair between them that Yuri had gotten just a glimpse of in the locker room. Not that he was looking.

No, definitely not looking and imagining what it would be like to rub his dick between that warm crevice as his friend lay prone below him, chest smeered with Yuri’s cum and—

Yuri groaned again, rolling over on his stomach to press his abused cock onto the duvet. Sure, yeah, they messed around some. Who wouldn’t after the whole ‘madness’ thing? But sex? No, no time. Not between competition and training and being half a continent away from one another. Nope, just some frenzied hand jobs and maybe a drunk sort-of blow job/finger thing that one time… his dick twitched happily at the memory. 

Growling, Yuri pressed his face into his pillow his other hand blindly fished around until it found his iPhone still buried in his clothes strewn over the bed.

Definitely no sex, let alone whatever his dumb, teenage brain had been dreaming up over the past twelve hours.

Yuri jolted suddenly when at almost the exact same moment his phone began to buzz. Careening his neck just enough he caught ‘Otabek Altin (bear emoji)’ light up the screen. Yuri yelped, sitting bolt upright, wildly looking for his lost tiger print underpants and pulling them on backwards. Before questioning the logic behind answering the call at the moment he tapped his screen, plummeting himself back onto his stomach and burying his bare chest against the pillow beneath him.

Otabek’s dark gaze light up the screen. His stoic face filled most of the screen though behind him the lockers of a changing room were apparent, skate guards on a nearby bench and—

“Put a shirt on.”

Yuri hissed in almost obvious pain, cutting off whatever greeting was about to leave Otabek’s lips and leaving him with a delightful open-mouthed expression.

That almost cute expression left Yuri immediately regretted saying anything at all.

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Otabek deadpanned back, switching his phone to his opposite hand, inadvertently dropping the gaze of the camera a little lower, just enough for Yuri to catch the light dusting of dark hair between his pecs.

_FUCK._

“Yeah, but,” Yuri glanced to the side, trying to make eye-contact anywhere but his phone screen, “It’s different.”

The Kazakh merely stared at him. Utterly indifferent to his suffering.

“Okay.”

Otabek responded, making absolutely no move for his shirt which hung quite clearly on a hanger behind him.

Yuri nodded, half listening to Otabek’s plans for training the next coming weeks. It had been Yuri’s idea of course for him to stay with him at Lilia’s. Fuck past Yuri, that seemed like such a bad idea now. Especially since more often than not these days Lilia was god-knows-where at nights (Victor swore he’d seen her in her pink fluffy robe at Yakov’s but Yuri’s brain didn’t even want to begin to rationalize why the fuck she’d be there). Past Yuri had been internally preparing himself for some kind of weird almost-sex extravaganza. It’s not like he hadn’t had practice with doing that himself already.

His head lulled off to the side as he stared aimlessly at the screen, transfixed by Otabek’s one hand which came up to rub at a bare shoulder, seemingly obliviously to Yuri’s laser-like gaze. God he wished he was that hand.

“I’m arriving at the airport at eight, should I meet you at the rink or…?”

The hand stopped it’s self-massage and dropped out of frame, forcing Yuri to make ‘eye contact’ back with Otabek’s face on his screen, dusty pink blush heightening his cheek bones.

“Yeah!” 

Otabek frowned. Yuri, internally kicking himself, finally got it together enough to respond.

“I mean, no. I’ll pick you up in a cab, we can go straight back to—“

A horrifically loud array of hooting and laughter echoed, second-hand through his phone, courteously announcing the arrival of the Kazakh National Hockey Team into the locker room. Just out of frame Yuri could already see various be-padded forms shuffling past.

Otabek’s brow immediately darkened.

“Shit, I’ve gotta go. Text you later, okay?”

He stood, phone view immediately migrating downward to give Yuri a brief glimpse of both Otabek’s soft nipples before the phone was again on his face.

“Uh huh.”

Yuri swallowed, internally cursing fucking hockey players for ruining everything, as per usual.

Expecting a typical silent end to the call, Yuri was surprised when he wasn’t met with the blackness of his phone screen and instead Otabek’s almost amused expression. Yuri frowned confused.

“What is it asshole?”

Otabek shrugged one shoulder, hand coming up yet again to massage the junction of his neck and trap.

“Glad you liked those photos.”

Yuri froze as Otabek within his phone screen gestured his head to the left. He didn’t even need to turn around to figure his laptop screen was alight with that dumb promotional shoot.

Before he could stammer out a curse, let alone an excuse, the call ended leaving Yuri staring into his fractured phone screen.

With one dramatic movement that could only be mustered by someone as deep in the clutches of puberty as Yuri Plisetsky, he threw aside his phone, buried his head into his pillow and screamed.

———

Another twelve hours and another half box of tissues had been used by the time Otabek arrived and Yuri was helping him haul his luggage into the tiny elevator that lead up to Lilia’s downtown apartment. There were worse things than being cramped into a tiny space with Otabek Altin, Yuri refraining from a blush as the other skater leant into him purposefully, placing a soft kiss on one cheek.

The luggage didn’t even find it’s way to the spare bedroom before they were in Yuri’s room. Potya once again yowling on the other side of the door as Otabek had Yuri pressed up against it, placing gentle but firm kisses against his lips and jaw.

Yuri whined, pushing aside Otabek’s sharp jaw with his nose and reuniting their lips in a harsh kiss. Tongues battling as Yuri’s disposed of all pretence, shoving his hands up under the Kazakh’s shirt to rub the skin just above the line his jeans cut into his skin.

Otabek broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he leant his forehead against Yuri’s. Just staring.

“Please,” Yuri mumbled softly, head turning to the side as his fingers fiddled and ducked just under the tight line of Otabek’s jeans, “touch me, please.”

Otabek snorted out what could have been a chuckle but it was too hard for Yuri to make out because before he had realized it his own sweater and shirt had been pulled above his head. Wrestling his clothes off, Otabek had made swift work of his own, leaving the two in only their respective boxers, leopard print pressed hard against the spartan black affair as Otabek maneuvered them around to stand at the base of Yuri’s bed.

Their lips locked again, and unconscious to Yuri’s salient mind, his hands had already migrated back up to Otabek’s chest as if by some unseen magnetism. Groping desperately he moaned harshly into the kiss, Otabek’s tongue massaging against his own in a way that made his already so-hard dick even harder. Harder yet when pressed up against Otabek’s own which rubbed hard against his stomach.

His hands gripped those firm pecs even harder, fondling, and god what it would be like to suck on his nipples—

Realizing suddenly his hands had betrayed him, Yuri broke the kiss, stumbling backward a step away from Otabek.

Yuri's brain, already a heady collection of drawn out fantasy and nerves short circuited at Otabek's almost-naked proximity, and the reality of the other skater alone in his bedroom hit him like the ice rushing up to meet him after a hard fall.

_Fuck._

"Yura," if Yuri had any mind to look at Otabek's face in that moment instead of steadily burning a hole in his smooth stomach, he would have seen the Kazakh's genuinely concerned expression.

"You okay?"

Stupid Otabek.

Stupid muscles.

Stupi-

His fists clenched by his sides.

"No! No I'm not okay, okay?!"

Yuri snapped, chin levelling back upward to Otabek's features where concern melted to confusion. He seemed to mark only then the blush that spread all the way from Yuri's delicate cheek bones, creeping all the way down to the ivory skin of his chest.

Yuri mumbled under his breath, green eyes ripping themselves from Otabek to a nearby light fixture.

Otabek shifted again as if to stand.

"Yura."

"Lay down."

Yuri looked back from the light that had burned a number of blue halos into his vision, back to Otabek.

Otabek's head turned ever so slightly like a puppy trying to understand it's masters command. It would have been almost cute if Yuri had any blood left in his brain to analyse the movement.

He shifted on one foot, trying to relieve the strain in his boxers without god-forbid touching himself like some dumb horny teenager.

"Just," _inhale_ "Lay down, okay?" _exhale_.

Yuri almost thought he gleamed a small smirk from Otabek as the other skater, without question, slowly leaned back on his elbows before dropping entirely to the duvet below him, going so far as to pull down a pillow to rest his neck on from higher on the bed. As if that fucker had any idea what he was thinking.

Without taking the time to explain Yuri shed his underwear with a quick flick, sending it flying to the corner of the room and clambered on the bed next to Otabek.

Otabek had no time to register his sudden nudity before Yuri immediately straddled his chest, small pink cock flushed and immediately in front of his face.

It was Otabek's turn to exhale now as Yuri looking down at him through a veil of gold hair.

Yuri whimpered at the small puffs of hot air that fled Otabek's lips when he took perch on his chest. Hands still clenched at his side, balls tight against his body as he hovered over Otabek's sternum.

No turning back now.

Slowly he sunk down, squaring his knees on each side of Otabek's well defined lats, ass finding some strangely appropriate purchase in the dip where Otabek's rib cage opened up to his well-defined stomach.

Yuri could almost swear he could feel the other skater's heartbeat ressonate through his balls which were now snugly tucked between them.

Finding the courage to finally look back down, Yuri didn't have to search for Otabek's smirk, because it was now written so obviously across his handsome face.

"It's okay."

Two sets of broad hands found purchase on his knees, rubbing small, warm circles where they touched.

"Whatever you want."

And the smirk was replaced with some dementedly hot expression that Yuri had never seen before. Dark eyes burying themselves deep into his psyche as he if he already knew what Yuri had wanted all along.

The tension in Yuri's shoulders unknotted just slightly; nodding enough to let some of his hair fall in front of his still burning face.

Unclenching his fists, he let one hand tentatively stroke the narrow hollow between Otabek's trap and collar bone before moving it slowly. Finger tips just grazing the surface of that golden skin enough to leave goose flesh in his wake. His fingernails delicately scratches across one nipple, which responded immediately to touch in a way that caused Yuri's cock to react in kind; twitching helplessly over Otabek's chest.

Below him Otabek refrained a shudder, dark eyelashes fluttering closed a second before opening again with that smouldering expression.

 _He likes it._ Yuri realized with an audible groan of relief. _Oh thank fuck, he likes it._

Yuri let go a breath he didn't realise he was holding, relaxing fully onto Otabek in a way that must have restricted his breathing just a little by the way he felt his knees bracket the other skaters rib cage. If it did, Otabek didn't seem to mind.

Grabbing a hold of the base of his cock this time, Yuri took his time to rub it firmly over the swelling pectorals laid out below him. The head of his cock already leaking and leaving silvery strands of precum across Otabek's chest.

Yuri couldn't hold in another whimper as he pressed the pink head of his cock against the opposing nipple, rubbing in circles in the same way his fingers did.

He didn't realise he had his eyes closed until a rumbling moan below him had him flick his gaze upward.

Otabek looked wrecked. Jaw slightly slack and breathing heavily against the weight on his chest.

Yuri's grip on his own cock tightened.

_JUST. FUCK. ME. UP._

"Whatever you want, Yura."

That breathless plea(?) was all it took for Yuri to throw all semblance of patience and virtue to the wind as he pushed his cock back over one firm pectoral to rest in that glorious crease in the middle of Otabek's chest.

Flicking a wave of golden hair back over his shoulder he panted hard as he ground down between Otabek's pecs, marvelling as the slight scratch of the dark hair between them. He barely noticed Otabek's hands migrated up from his knees, kneading and massaging almost painfully hard, upward to grip at his hips.

Thumbing the jutting rises of his hip bones, Otabek's fingers curled around to dig into the sides of his ass, pushing him even further down and up his own chest, dragging Yuri's cock upward until it rested at the soft junction between both collar bones.

Careening his neck in a way that was no doubt uncomfortable, Yuri stared down through his hair, wide eyed as Otabek began messily licking up and down his dick with reckless abandon. Yuri choked out a sob at the sensation, other hand flying down to grip the base of his cock to stop himself from cumming right then and there. He felt the sweat trickle down over each knob of his spine as Otabek drooled all over his cock, tongue wet and heavy.

And just as quickly as it happened, Otabek pulled away, chin wet with precum and saliva as he looked back up at Yuri with a heated expression.

Confusion melted into understanding as Otabek rested his head back down and heaved at Yuri's ass yet again, grinding his cock back down the crease between his pectorals.

Yuri's eyes must have been bulging out of his head by this point at the realisation of what Otabek just facilitated. He moved his hand up and over his cock, pressing it flat into Otabek's cleavage and creating a pocket between his palm and that firm, tanned skin, now slick with saliva.

The first thrust had Yuri already shuddering and shouting, back arching at just how good it felt. Before he had time to recover from the sensation Otabek had already heaved him back up again for a second thrust.

Vision blurring and all reservations totally out the window Yuri let lose on Otabek's chest; grinding and thrusting into the space with small squelches from the wet skin. Precum dribbling and smeering over Otabek’s collarbones.

His free hand reached down to gain purchase on Otabek's firm pec, fingernails digging in hard and leaving half-moon cuts deep in that immaculate pane of muscle.

The final straw was the feeling of Otabek's index finger dipping into the crevice of his ass, pushing up against his rim teasingly, giving just enough of a hint of something more it had Yuri careening over the edge. 

Back arching painfully back, Yuri all but sobbed as he came in sharp white spurts across Otabek's chest. Cum painted under his chin, whilst some settled into the divettes of his collar bones, the majority rolled back into the space between Otabek's pecs.

It might have been years before Yuri realised the hands on his ass had released him. He winced at their retreat, already feeling the rush of blood to what would no doubt become a matching set of bruises on each haunch.

Realising Otabek probably still needed to breath, he lifted one leg back over to collapse by his side, sweaty and utterly defeated by those damn muscles.

Silently he felt Otabek's hand reach around to start stroking through his tangled hair, pressing a gentle kiss into his wet forehead.

Yuri was about to give into the approaching embrace of sleep before--

"Fuck! Sorry! What about you?"

He popped his head up glancing down to Otabek's cock still neatly tucked away in his black Calvin Klein's. Looking a little harder the wet mess on the front of the boxers became more and more apparent.

There was a cough-like chuckle from Otabek, and Yuri didn't need to see his face to know the Kazakh was blushing.

"Maybe next time."

Was all he said, pulling Yuri closer.

Yuri grinned, picking himself up to lap at his own cooling cum that rested in the centre of Otabek's chest.

He looked up to find those dark eyes amazingly wide, slowly smouldering.

"Yeah. Next time."

———


End file.
